I'm not afraid of death. Death's afraid of me.

What do I miss about the UK? Sadly, almost nothing. Maybe the midnight sun, in June in the north. That's all.

Imagine the uproar if the Federal government tried to make everyone wear a radio transmitter around their neck so we can keep track of their movements. But people happily carry their cell phones in their purses and pockets.

Intensely vivid characters, terrible crimes, and a brutal deep-frozen landscape all prove beyond a reasonable doubt that cold nurtures good and evil as readily as heat ... and that Giles Blunt is a really tremendous crime novelist.

I have to warn you. I promised my mother, a long time ago. She said I had to give folks a chance to walk away.

The most sustained feat of imagination in mystery fiction today.

I've discovered writers by reading books left in airplane seats and weird hotels.